It is with the most sincere regrets that I write this letter. On Tuesday, August 3, 1999 Angel passed away. She had been brought into the Animal Medical Clinic for surgery to remove what was believed to be kidney stones, and while under the anesthesia, she stopped breathing.

Over the past few weeks it was noticed that sweet Angel was having difficulty in urinating. At first the situation was misdiagnosed as constipation, aggravated by hairballs brought on by the shedding season. When Dr. Harper visited the Park to examine the pups, he believed her problem stemmed from possible stones. A date was set for surgery early the next week.

As usual with Angel, containing her was an adventure. A slightly new method was tried this time. The squeeze cage, generously loaned to us by the Tippecanoe Humane Shelter, was placed in the front airlock. Covering the cage to create a den/tunnel effect, was a large blanket. Flanking the sides of the cage, leading to the fence of the airlock, were partial sheets of plywood to form a funnel. Operating the guillotine door of the cage was intern Lisa Wallis. Outside the enclosure was puppy mother Elisabeth Vaeth holding a rope attached to the airlock gate, ready to pull it closed upon Angel's entrance to the airlock. The boys, Basil and Corey, were moved to the back part of the enclosure and left to watch the circus. Pat Goodmann and myself proceeded for the next 45 minutes to attempt to usher Angel into the airlock and into the cage. Watching all of this were the participants of the August Wolf Behavior Seminar. Finally, when time was just running out, Angel was finally convinced to enter the airlock. Elisabeth closed the gate and Lisa was ready to close the cage when the moment came. Another five minutes were spent by Pat slowly inching Angel further into the tunnel we had created. At last Angel retreated to the cage and Lisa closed it.

Taking the cage, blanket and all, Angel, Lisa and myself moved to my car and off to the Animal Medical Clinic. Once settled in the examination room, the technician asked if she could see Angel. For the first time since laying the blanket over the cage , about an hour and a half earlier, I lifted the blanket. Squished in one end of the cage, with no cage wall to contain her, sat a very angry and indignant Angel. ALL OF THIS TIME, THERE WAS ONLY THE BLANKET CONTAINING HER! In my haste and nervousness about this whole procedure, I never once bothered to check to see how the cage was set. A squeeze cage, in case you are not familiar with the concept, is a cage with a collapsible wall - one that is moved by a series of hinges and braces, in order to restrain an animal that wishes no human contact. In all of the commotion, the cage was already "squeezed" when Angel entered. Needless to say, there was a moment in the exam room that we all froze, before I covered Angel up again and quickly thought about what to do next. A flat piece of cardboard and a small cat cage were called for. After several minutes of rotating, dismantling, moving and sheer bumbling about, Angel was transferred to the cat cage, the squeeze cage re-set and Angel was moved back. Angel was given time to calm herself and then she was injected with the first of a series of two shots to sedate her.

Once sedated, Angel received her first physical exam in years. Almost immediately, a strange lump was found on her abdomen. What I had always thought of as a mass of subcutaneous fat hanging from Angel's belly region (like the deposits some older cats develop) in actuality turned out to be her bladder. At some point in time, her bladder had come through the abdominal wall, and was left hanging just under the skin. This meant there was no muscular pressure to exert on it, therefore she was not able to fully express her bladder - she could void the little "on the top," but she was constantly walking around with a full bladder. This explained her difficulty and straining when she would squat for several seconds. X-rays were taken and they confirmed that it was indeed her bladder, and preparations were made to take her into surgery. It was at this time that things took a turn for the worse. The monitor on Angel began to beep, and she stopped breathing. For reasons I will never understand, this was the beginning of the end. Dr. Harper tried his best for nearly half an hour to revive her - epinephrine shots were injected to stimulate her heart, he massaged her, he tried to pump the air back and life back into her, all to no avail.

Lisa and I took Angel home. I carried her out and drove back to the Park with her on my lap the entire way. Holding her close I ran into the fox enclosure for the boys to see her one last time. Both were apprehensive - whether because they knew, or were cautious because of my strange behavior, I would like to think the former. Basil approached first, cautious, flighty, but curious. He sniffed Angel first here, then there, then all over. Corey remained at a distance, seeking refuge behind the board under the gate separating the two halves of the enclosure. Realizing that he would not approach while I was there, I laid Angel down, arranged as best I could and stepped away. With more caution and trepidation than Basil, Corey finally approached. Sniffing the air and ground around her first, before finally getting the courage to take that next step, Corey appeared to grow extremely subdued and confused. At last he sniffed Angel, snuffled around her fur, first at her tail, then her belly, finally around her face and ears. Basil returned to investigate more closely. After what seemed all too brief of an encounter, the boys left. Lisa, Elisabeth and I returned to Angel and began to clean her up - smoothing her fur, removing burrs and stray tufts of hair. She had just begun to shed, long after the wolves and Wild Bill finished and were in full sleek summer wear. Tufts of fur were hanging off her, leaving her in an unkempt manner - surely unbecoming of such a dignified and graceful animal. Basil approached a few more times. We humans left several times to give Corey and Basil another chance to say goodbye. At last no more could be done. I picked her up and carried her out one last time.

Somehow, when I first began working with Angel, I knew that I would only be able to pet her at the end. The scenario I had worked up in my head was that simply one day I would find her curled up in her favorite box. When the "opportunity " came around to possibly have a chance to pet her and still have her around, I will admit, I was more than a little excited. All I can say is that it was not supposed end this way, and I am truly sorry.

I know in my heart of hearts that Angel received nothing but the best of what I could offer. Starting her life on a fur farm, up for sale in a pet store, rescued by the law, placed with a loving rehabilitator, paired off with a male fox (Renke) only to be widowed shortly thereafter, inundated by a streak of white lightening by the name of Basil "The Bubba Fox" Fawlty, moved to a two room condo with all the amenities, bells and whistles any aspiring fox could ask for - complete with running water, blessed with a baby - Corey, and occasionally living life on the lam - sometimes for several days at a time - Angel had a full life. Not only did she simply survive all of her adventures, she thrived because of them. She ran, ate, slept, hunted, hid, mated, reared young and hopefully loved - if only we all could be so lucky.
 
               Amanda Shaad